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You Resurrected | Adaora Chinedu

You Resurrected | Adaora Chinedu



You are a leftover of your father’s strength

buried in your mother’s bedroom

wall- after 6AM

you are messiah.



First, you of teary joys

dancing down faces

next scene, you become

skin tanned by this hell

but they have taught you to ketch up

grief with simple shades of smile

as garland around your chest wall

grin gallantly down this hall.



You took your first lessons on her lap

she taught you to trust your

toy cars to fly.

Your lips to say,

‘‘Our Lord’s prayer’’

little sweet prayers, you thought

you were a boy who need not ask much.



You had too much,

she was your first love.

Life’s sweet.

Your cheek, dovely

you smile, the sun grows shy

happiness helped you cry.



You are a soft-sweet-sunflower,

but the world is full of

thorns and too impatient to watch

flowers bloom.

Too much that your petals

shrivel in gloom

so much of the world withering

wild in one room.



Now, your sun tastes sour.

You sit somewhere in the middle

of your being, 

a debate, 

gathering thoughts

of your fluid mothers’ lips

saying- ‘son, learn to trust’

Now, that was her first true lie.

Because you watched her die

her breath, blanching like dye.



You pray too much

telling God all what

he already knows.

Maybe he got bored too, 

listening to your mother

bang on heaven’s roof

blood dripping from her neck;

a sacrifice, souvenir from

your feral father.



You are torn tulip,

and your nectar

runs into places

your pain is solidified,

and again your wretch is redefined.



You have become too

much of everything,

you want too much

you loose too much

you feel too much

and hope too much.



Now you think of the

innocence your name held

before birth,

the calm that nursed you to

cot at three,

like the soft wind caresses the

palm of trees.

The first gift that emptied

your soul into a young child-

learning language

learning love

learning laughter.



With life still in your gut,

somehow, you realize you could

have died in there

but you choose to betray you-

messiah, you couldn’t douse your pain

in the pool of your father’s worries

you resurrected.



Again, the world

turns their back at you

a spree of mocking teeth

hate meted out by friends,

the world knocks you out, and

at the door of your life you perch

begging to breathe again,

there’s too much dying in here.


Adaora Chinedu Agbowo Art African Literary Art

Adaora Chinedu goes by the pen name Zephyr, a free-spirited writer, book addict, lover, salt, survivor. She scribbles anything ‘scribblable’; bridging the gap between poetry and prose. She thinks beauty and broken as near-synonyms. Loves fried plantains, black boots, and hates junk food (mostly puff-puff). She writes from anywhere.



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